Solas Searching
by Sycrylacryl
Summary: After the victory against Corypheus, Lavellan is left devastated by the disappearance of Solas and struggles with the emergence of vivid nightmares from the Fade. The Inquisitor must search the beyond for answers, for knowledge... for Solas. Update: Story didn't pan out, and now there's Trespasser!
1. Chapter One - Dreams

**Chapter One - Dreams**

Lurkers prowled across the moonlit sands as peacefully as Hallas. The Hissing Wastes, silent like an empty dream, spread forth, rose, and plummeted to the beyond. Black crags rose up like teeth biting into the sky, the landscape yawning wide open to the stars. If the Maker ever existed, he may have at one time come here to the edge of the world to rest.

The elf barefoot and bare faced, drew in the cool sand with a shaking hand. Vines and flowers came first, from places in memory and the imagination. She traced the vestments of faces, swords, plumes of magic, and branches of lightning and burning. Then there were the rifts, twisting and writhing with unfathomable energy. She tried to hold onto these images in her mind. After a time, the wind blew it all away, to be forgotten.

Her eyes closed. _Again._

The elf woke up, tearing at her hair. A scream echoed off the nearby cliffs. It repeated, over and over again. Her hands went over her ears. _Make it stop._

Those... things, circling around her, cackling, oozing, shrieking. Every time, they were there waiting, expecting her return. Since the fade rifts closed, ever since she first laid down to sleep after the Inquisition's victory, she couldn't go anywhere or dream of anything except demons. Pride, envy, despair, rage, desire: they were all there.

At first, they were in the distance in her dreams, almost unnoticeable, mixed in with the warped scenery of the Fade. But as the months passed by, they grew more daring. They drew nearer to their prey. The creatures brought forth the shapes of horrible thoughts and memories, of images sickening and maddening. So the elf left Skyhold, to move away to another part of the Fade. The demons, however, were somehow able to follow.

The nightmares made it impossible for her to sleep. The elf's body, thin and slight as it was before, became frailer. With every day that passed, she was a little slower; it was harder to get up, to walk, to speak. But she would not give up. Solas had to be found, and the only way that was going to happen was through searching the Fade. The elf looked at the anchor, a faint luminescence pulsing on her hand.

"The Keeper says she's ready."

The Inquisitor turned around. Varric Tethras stood behind her, with Bianca slung over his shoulder. He smiled weakly. "Let's go kick some demon ass."

"This is very dangerous," the Inquisitor said, shakily getting to her feet. "There is no telling what will happen."

"It couldn't be any weirder than actually _being_ in there," Varric said, taking her arm to steady her. "At least we're dreaming this time."

"Sort of." The Inquisitor's breath caught in pain. She took her staff from the ground, placing it before her and leaning on it.

"You take it easy, alright. We'll do all the work."

"No, I'll be fine." She took a step forward. _Damned knees._

The dwarf and the elf walked over the dunes. The camp fires burned brightly, sparks and smoke rising and disappearing into the darkness. The shadows of people sitting around the fire became more distinct. A pair of large horns materialized. Then the jeweled garments of Dorian. Finally she saw the Keeper Ionna, with her arms folded and staff at her back. She's must be pissed, the Inquisitor thought. Away from home, amongst the "shem'len" whom she harbors no love for. But all for me.

"Lethal'lan," Ionna said grimly. "I will need your help to start the ritual. Ar'an Mythal ama."

"Ar'an'u," the Inquisitor replied bluntly. "We've always been alone."

"Ma nuvenin," her face softened. "Ir abelas."

"I don't wish to speak of it," the Inquisitor said, increasing the grip on her staff. "Ever again."

The Keeper Ionna nodded sadly. "This way."

Beside the tents, an area had been cleared for the ritual. Mages from the clan Lavellan were busy at work, grinding herbs and placing them in a large urn. The urn was inscribed with minute Elven text and decorated with white wolves. Four bedrolls were laid in a circle around it.

"I'm not familiar with this kind of magic," Dorian said brushing the sand off his shoulders.

"What's is that, Boss?" Iron Bull pointed at the contents of the urn. "Looks like some nasty crap."

"It definitely tastes like it," Varric grimaced at the memory. Ionna gave both of them looks.

"The urn contains a mixture of herbs to be used for the ritual," Keeper Ionna explained. "There is Rashvine Nettle and Elfroot in it, as well as some rarer herbs. It was difficult to procure all the necessary ingredients."

"Serannas, Keeper," the Inquisitor sat down on a bedroll, looking up to her companions. "I want you to know, that you don't have to go through with this if you don't want to."

"Shut up," Dorian smirked. "Of course were going. Right dear?"

Iron Bull unstrapped his axe. "Yeah. I'm your official bodyguard after all."

"You know me, I'm always up for weird shit." Varric pulled out a bolt and docked it in Bianca.

"Any suggestions from your previous experience?" the Inquisitor directed at the dwarf.

The bolt clicked. "Same old fade right? Me and Hawke didn't have too bad a time, until I tried to kill him. Just don't listen to anyone or anything there... Unless it's a glowing ex-Divine."

"The potion is ready, Keeper," said Ellena, the youngest magic user in clan Lavellan and the new First.

"All those entering the awakened state, please lie down," the Keeper commanded.

Once all was settled, the singing begun. The beautiful voices of her kinsmen soothed the Inquisitor, reminding her of the days when she took her lessons, ran wild and mud-covered in the forest, and the wind whipped against the aravels as furiously and lively as her heart once beat. The potion in the urn began to glow like the color of malachite. Flasks of it were passed around, the singing continuing into the night. The Inquisitor drained the liquid, it flowed, searing her throat with heat and the earthy pungency of magic.

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_Reviews are very much appreciated. I wish to improve my writing. :3_


	2. Chapter Two - Nightmares

**Chapter Two - Nightmares**

"Where are they?"

The rage and despair demons, wraiths and shades were gone. The landscape of the Fade, reflecting the Hissing Wastes, churned and shifted. It was empty, devoid of any feature except the glowing sand dunes, pillars of jagged stone, and darkness.

"Be wary," the Inquisitor's staff shone brightly, shedding light upon them all. "The demons must be nearby. Don't let your guard down."

"Where could they possibly hide?" said Varric, swinging Bianca in all directions. "There's nothing here."

"That's impossible!"

"Something is definitely not right here," Dorian turned to the Inquisitor. "Can you feel it?"

"I think I see something over there," Iron Bull pointed. A small point of light, engulfed in the darkness, flickered weakly.

"Let's go," the Inquisitor hurried forward, feeling slightly stronger than her physical self.

For a while they ran towards the light, gaining on it. As the light grew, a shape beside it emerged. It was a statue. A tall figure of a man.

The stopped in front of it, catching their breath. The Inquisitor lifted up her staff, allowing the light to fall on its features.

The statue stood the height of five men. There was no face. Both its arms extended into long, curved claws or tentacles.

"I've seen this statue before," Varric said.

Dorian nodded. "So have I. Magisters have written books on statues, icons, and architecture in the Fade. There is little known on what they truly mean. This particular one turns up often enough. That in itself is particularly strange, for an ever changing place."

"Creepy," said Iron Bull.

In the silence that followed, a small cracking noise could be heard.

"What the fuck?" Varric jumped, aiming Bianca at the statue.

Dorian's face paled. "Look... Look at the face."

The Inquisitor stared as dust fell from the statue's face. A thin, crooked line, like a mouth had formed. It opened, and began to speak.

"I knew you would come." It grinned.

The Inquisitor took a step forward, even though her whole body screamed against it. "What are you?"

"I linger in the minds of all mortals."

"A demon then?"

" I stand in the light for all to see. I strike in darkness so none may know me. But my purpose is always the same. To harm."

"You want to harm me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"There are many that wish you ill. You have denied many beings the riches of your world by closing the Rift. And there are those who seek desperately... for escape."

"That's too bad. Demons belong in the Fade, not in Thedas. And that's where they're staying."

"You think you have that much power? You resolve a few petty squabbles amongst mortals, and you think you can control everything in your wake?"

"If there is peace in our world, there will be less fear, hate and pain for monsters like you to feed on," the Inquisitor challenged. "If the physical world changes, this world will, for the better."

The mouth's grin widened. "You know so little. You have clever friends, but that will not help you. They will all betray you in time, like they have before."

"Keep your filthy lies to yourself. If you want to fight, let's get this over with."

"Fight?" the mouth whispered. "I would rather play."

"What?" the Inquisitor brandished her staff. "Come and fight me demon!"

The mouth disappeared in a cloud of dust.

"I don't like where this shit is going," Varric said.


End file.
